Random Thoughts From A Holy Mountain

There was a wonderful day, a while back now, when I went to sit with the Holy Thorn. He’s just a stump now, after he was attacked and destroyed more than a year ago now. But He’s still ‘in there’, so to speak. It wouldn’t take much for Him to revive. He just needs some tender loving care … and a bit of a chat, from time to time.

The Holy Thorn

The Holy Thorn in better days

I was the only one there for a long time, and high up as I was on Wearyall Hill, I had a wonderful vantage point straight across the soft green, flat Levels to Cheddar Caves, where our ancestors first came to, when this vast expanse of the Vale of Avalon was hidden under an inland sea that came up from the Bristol channel.

That’s where all the legends about Joseph of Arimethea, Jesus’s uncle, come from… that he arrived here in a ship as a tin merchant and climbed up Wearyall Hill and they were all so weary and that’s why it’s called Wearyall Hill. And he stuck his staff in the land and it grew into the Holy Thorn…. but that’s all just legend.

There’s also a legend that Jesus was with him that day, on Wearyall Hill, and that was William Blake’s inspiration for the hymn Jerusalem ~ “And did those Feet, in ancient times, walk upon England’s mountains green?”.

The medieval monks drained the Vale of Avalon to use it for grazing land, and that’s still pretty much what it’s used for today.

That day, I was completely alone and solitary apart from about a dozen very tame sheep and tiny spring lambs chewing the cud all around me, and white-bottomed hares hopping by.

It was very solitary weather. The mist was hanging low, like a silvery veil, over the Vale of Avalon. It was actually raining, very softly, off and on, but I didn’t mind because I was rivetted to my bench in meditation and actually experiencing a wild and raging joy in my heart at being permitted to spend so much time alone in this holy spot. Nature, too, seemed very pensive that day.

I could feel her going deep within herself, almost brooding, as I watched the wraith-like mist swirling over the Vale of Avalon and sending out long, spindly tendril-like fingers to caress the grass. I was really in a sort of semi-trance and then I had a sudden jolting realisation…a big Aha! moment.

Suddenly, I knew that the mist was the spirit of the sea coming back to Her homeland, like a Veil over the vale, like a mother returning to her children. And I also knew at the same time that that’s why we were so alone …for Her to have that private moment as She hovered over the land, Her land, and which might one day, in another time, become Her land again.

The Veil of Avalon, at sunset

I sat bolt still and silent in my centre, feeling very privileged to witness this communion between Sea and Land, and I felt this sense of Her sadness and longing. It wasn’t a bitter kind of sadness, though. It was a knowing kind of sadness… as if She knew Her absence was only temporary and that She could wait, because time was on Her side.

I sat like that for more than an hour and I just let the rain fall of me…it seemed a very minor consideration bearing in mind that I was being allowed to be in the presence of the holy Veil of Avalon.

The following day, I was up on Wearyall Hill again, and all the mist and drizzle was banished. It was a bright, sunny day with cotton wool clouds scudding jauntily along like sails across the deep blue sky. The landscape looked totally different in that kind of light, and the brooding sadness had changed to one of joyful play under the Sun.

A couple came along walking, both in their sixties, and I said “Good afternoon” and “Nice day,” and all that, and they said it back in Australian accents, and then I realised that they were tourists. Then I said:

“Looks like the weather’s set fine for the weekend,” and the woman tossed her head haughtily, and replied

“Well, thank goodness for that,” as if it was her right to come to Glastonbury on holiday and have good weather.

And I thought to myself that this is the trouble with we humans. We think we’re the only ones that have rights here on this Earth. We call it ‘our Earth’. It isn’t. The spirit of the Sea also had the right to be there two days ago, and it’s just as much Her land as ours. But I didn’t say it!!

I’m walking miles and miles, nowadays, whenever I get the chance, going right out into the countryside where the lanes are little more than tracks. I have a longing to get right into the heart of the Vale of Avalon, in a multi-dimensional sense. And the more I get away from where people commonly walk, the more I am able to sense the spirits of the Land, otherwise known to the Celts as the Fae, the Sidhe, the Gentry or the Elders.

The further out you go from central Glastonbury, the more magical it all becomes with Paradise Lane, Maidens Croft Lane and Gypsy Lane all winding round the holy mountain of the Tor … the sacred oaks of Gog and Magog…and the hedgerows are full of spring blossoms and wonderful aromas. I pick my dandelion leaves there and bring them back for my salad!

Gog and Magog

A few days ago, after leaving Gog and Magog, I followed a footpath through an orchard and, at the end of it, I came upon a field with three horses in it. One of them was wearing a coat. I thought he might be ill, as it’s quite warm now, or maybe he was just old. Anyway, he was the one that came over to me.

A long time ago, when I was a Reiki master, I used to give Reiki to horses quite a lot. I always seemed to have people turning up in my workshops who wanted to learn Reiki to give their horses, and so I would teach them in a hands-on way at their stables.

I used to put my hands on the horses’ necks and let the energy flow through me into them, and they would always drop their heads very low when receiving healing, and remain still.

Anyway, back to the Glastonbury orchard, and the horse with the coat on was walking towards me quite purposefully. He was definitely coming to me for something. I knew what he wanted. So I thought I’d try it differently. I stood about six feet from him and with my palms, sent him healing energy and also various healing symbols through my mind. It wasn’t Reiki so much as just whatever energy I could pull down and send through my hands.

Almost instantly, his head dropped …just as it used to when I put my hands on the horses, to give them Reiki. Yet I was about six feet away… We stayed in that position for about a few minutes and then he put up his head again and shook his body as if to help the energy flow through. Then he tossed his head with his mane flying and whinnied a thank you!

It was a wonderful moment!

The Sacred Sex Rites of Ishtar

Shamanic sexual healing and sex magic

The article above is by the shaman Ishtar Babilu Dingir, who is also the author of The Sacred Sex Rites of Ishtar. It is about sex magic across dimensions that leads to greater self empowerment and creative intelligence, which she has been taught by her guiding spirits, over decades. Ishtar explains, however, that this is not a New Age teaching, but a very old one, and that she is merely reconstituting a practice in which our earlier ancestors were skilled and which they valued highly as a means of spiritual evolution.

In Part I, Ishtar lays the foundation stone for this teaching by showing the ancient artwork, iconography and orally transmitted lore underlying these sacred shamanic sex practices, which seem to have fallen out of favour after the destruction of the Mystery Groves and the Library of Alexandria.

Ishtar uses erotic poetry and engravings from ancient Egypt, Crete, India, Sumer and Babylon to show that sacred sex was part of the Kingship rites, and that the spirits were present in the lovemaking. She also finds evidence for the practice of the Faery Marriage, and what she believes is the original meaning of the Holy Grael which can be traced back to Neanderthals about 45,000 years ago.

Ishtar unravels ancient myths to show that they are really “Trojan horses” of sacred dramas which carry the secret keys of this ancient sex magic teaching. She is also the first to discover the allegorical sub-strata containing the keys to shamanic sex magic in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, based on alchemy and the Alchemical Marriage. She gives the same treatment to the story of the Woman at the Well in the Gospel of John.

Ishtar also describes how Babylon has been deliberately demonised by who we now call the Zionists and their proxy armies who have, for millennia, been trying to turn it into a pile of rubble. This is because of the power of the sacred geometry created by the Ishtar Gate and the Tower of Babylon, she says, which created the conditions for a portal, or a ‘Stargate’, into other dimensions.

In Part II of The Sacred Sex Rites of Ishtar, Ishtar shows the metaphysical anatomy of the human being, and then reveals the secret techniques of shamanic sex magic, so that people can try them for themselves.

Although this may seem like quite a complex subject, her past experience as a national newspaper journalist in the UK – Sunday Times, Sunday Express, Mail on Sunday – has given Ishtar the ability to explain some quite dense material in simple everyday language to produce an engaging, page-turner of a book. She also writes with great humour!

2 replies to Random Thoughts From A Holy Mountain

I’m glad you’re getting out into the hills. I’ve known for a long time that it’s a privilege to be able to walk across and through the land. I walk less and cycle more these days – what that gives is a sense of the seasons changing, day bay day and month by month. And greater variety: the countryside moves more.

On one trip I can take in woods, hills, vales, villages, fields, rivers and lakes, like a kaleidoscope. No two rides are the same. Even if I go the same way, even on the same day. I know walking gives this – but on my bike – it’s literally walking on speed. I know a lot of this is the domain of the farmers (and I loath all that yellow rape seed flowering – so un-Albion like. We’ve had the winter crop, the spring planting is about to kick off). I think there’s a real power in the late spring we’re about to have. The trees are an almost violent green at the moment. I’d be interested to know whether you’ve seen the same and what you think this might mean?

Cycling is also meditative too. I sometimes wonder how I’ve arrived at where I am; with only few recollections of the way taken – sometimes miles before.

I sometimes stop too (there are a few favourite views I like, and places I find peaceful). Maybe I should tarry longer. I don’t ‘do’ horses though. Any quadruped that big, with a wavelength so different from mine, is something to be given a wide berth.

Interesting too, that you call the Thorn ‘He’. What makes you say that?

Hello Ishtar I read this ( and loved its words and energies ) on a sun filled afternoon in Scotland , a new moon and we have a proper Spring ( nearly summer ) type weather here , I feel inspired to do as you are doing, the deeper more connected walks, when I have the time and one to go on now . This is a beautiful post and so very true about how much is taken for granted , and how the mystery of the land is not acknowledged enough . I loved your horse story as well, such a beautiful gift to experience and receive. Thank you for the Thorn tree visit , I was astonished to here that anyone would attack a tree in such a way (?) lets hope that he does make a full recovery. Hope your weekend is a magical one
Mhairead x

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